Chapter 1 continued...

Daniel tapped the boy’s face. His eyes opened slightly, the deep chocolate eyes focused for no longer than a second and then rolled. Blood shot white corneas stared back at Daniel, and then closed. Doctors and nurses circled Daniel, pushing him out of the way. He stood watching, his hands fidgeted.  An overwhelming feeling of anxiety took over. He couldn’t explain it. He reassured himself, you got him here, there is time, yet something nagged at him. He watched a full five minutes before he realized.

                “The girl, there is a girl, has she come in.”

                No one looked at him. The room was a world he was not a part of. A place he protected but didn’t belong. Daniele ran outside and began a rapid search. The sand had picked up a little again making it hard to see.  Looking around he didn’t see her close by.  His feet took off again, running to the spot where he had picked up the boy. She was only several feet ahead of where he had left her. She lay face first in the sand. Bending he shook her. “I am going to carry you in.” She was light. He could feel her chest rise and fall in his arms. She was breathing and this pleased him. His second entry was a little less chaotic.

                “Hey, I got his sister. She is not shot. I don’t know what is wrong with her, but the girl carried him here the whole way from wherever they came from.”

                “We got it soldier.” A uniformed doctor explained.

                Two hours back at the barracks, gave Daniel enough time to shower, eat, and write. A self-disciplined schedule he constructed and adhered to.

                A squeak and a clank alarmed the room that someone was entering. “Oh Danny Boy, the Sarge is looking for ya” said Oliver. A gangly guy who you could tell even from an instance, he moved like cooked spaghetti.

                “What for?”

                “You is in trouble” hollered Rich. A giant of a man.

                “You guys are full of it.”

                “No really go see sarge wants you.”

                Daniel was confused, he had never been pulled out of the barracks. The walk was short.

                “Knock Knock.” Daniel said as he popped his head into the half open door. “You needed me Sir.”

                “Yeah, sit Danny.” “I got a problem with what you did today, you see I just can’t figure out how you could see the kid breathing if he had a girl laying on him. I am not going to ask if you lied to me, you see I have too much on my plate to be handing out discipline to Superman, or Clark Kent. Whoever you are pretending to be.  You get what I am saying? You do anything like that again and I will find time for you! You got it Captain America?”

                “Sir yes Sir.”

                “Good get the hell out of here.”

                The barracks came alive as he Daniel entered. A loud heckling ooooooo came from the guys.

                “Shut up.”

                “What he say” asked Rich.

                “He said publisher’s clearing house came to my door, but I wasn’t home, so they gave it the neighbor.”

                “You are a weird dude. No really what happened.”

                “I just helped this girl and her brother today, kind of had to lie to help them.”

                “Oh damn, you trying to get laid on the Highway of Death.”

                “Kiss mine.”

                “Oh she wasn’t hot?”

                “I don’t know, I didn’t really look, her little brother was shot. I just wanted to help.”

Chapter 1

The dust wailed for hours, taking up the horizon like a snow storm. The tents rattled in fury, wind ripping through every inch of open canvas. The sound resembling low flying jets was still not enough to cover the little voices of agony. Children littered the stretchers like Kindergarten nap time. The sea of faces were bloody, shocked, and some burned. It was nearly wind break, a time of day you would think came with appreciation, but as the wind died, the moans, and screams were louder and harder to bare. Corporal, Daniel Marsh stood outside the tented hospital, bearing the spray of hot stinging sand, his shift would end soon.

                 The close combines began coming into focus, the tanks regained their hard shape and focus, and he knew, soon he would see the soft shapes of hills in the background.  He waited for this every day, knowing that it meant his time was over.  Sweat poured down every part of his body. The beads ran down his legs like fleeing spiders. His eyes stung from the salty invasion, altering his vision. He could see movement in the horizon, the distortion was unreal. Lifting his goggles he wiped his damp face on his sleeve, hoping to clear the blurred vision away.  As he looked up the movement was still there, moving slowly towards him. He immediately drew his gun, blinking the last remnants of salt from his eyes. His heart pounded with fear, and his mind raced to detect the enemy.  His face twisted in confusion, his eyes focused in on a young woman about 20. She was complete sand, as if sculpted from the horizon, in her arms she was carrying a much smaller child. “Corporal Daniel Marsh, requesting permission to help civilian victim. Victim 200 yards northeast.”

                “Negative Corporal, word has spread that bombs are being brought in, in the dead.”

                “It is a girl Sargent carrying a kid.”

                “Treat as threat Danny!”

                A repetitive far away trill filled the air. The trill grew in intensity until it was a scream. The woman trudged on, her pace slowing. Her feet now dragging tripped her progress, and she fell face first into the dirt.

                “Civilian down, 60 yards.”

                “You shot her?”

                “No she fell, I am scoping, she and the child are breathing, permission to bring into medical tent.”

                “Both breathing?”

                “Yes Sargent Sir!”

                “Bring them in.”

                Every thud of the boots sunk into the sand and left each foot strangled before being released. The earlier heard trill again began. As Daniel’s feet got closer the stressed trill began getting faster and more erratic. The strain of pain and helplessness streaked across the girls face, right along with the tears and dust. “I can help you. I will bring you and the child to a doctor.” Daniel exclaimed.

                “Emerican. I know you Emerican words. Help brother. My brother.  He heet by gun.” The words left strained and week from her chapped dust coated lips.

                “I will help. Can you walk?” Daniele bent grabbing at the young boy.

                “Hold!” A shout escaped the girls mouth as a demand, and then again as a request. “Hold.” Her hand pressed tightly on his left thigh.

                “I got it, can you walk?”

                Her brow furrowed. “Go! Help Heem.”

                “Walk? Can you Walk?” Daniel’s volume increased, and he immediately felt stupid, the girl wasn’t deaf.

                “I walk! You help heem!”

                Daniel watched as she struggled to get up. He left her there and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The sands holds were just as clingy  as before, but his adrenaline allowed him to float over the sand. “Doc, Medic, I need a medic! Boys been shot in leg. He isn’t good.” Daniel cleared the dust off the young boys face, his complexion didn’t change. A sandy light color coated his skin, an unnatural glow to this normally dark foreign face.

PROLOGUE

                I want to strip this bow off of my body. This giant red suffocating bow strangles me. Its choking hold does serve a purpose. To keep it all packaged, neat and tidy, and looking pretty. Don’t worry I won’t tell, you have one too.  We all wear it. We all walk around strutting our stuff in our best bows. You know the ones; we see them on cars in movies or in Christmas commercials. Facebook is all about the bows. When was the last time you read a post that said “Just got done yelling at my neighbor, I knew I was wrong but I was just really mad at myself.”? How about a post that said “I won’t be going on a vacation this year because I blew my money on crap.”? Nope we don’t read posts like that, because that would be a wild strip show. Not that we haven’t all nearly seen that on Facebook either.  Showing skin is a lot easier than being ourselves.

Who can blame us? Life is messy, corrupt, unfair, and eventually unbelievably beautiful. Every minute, even in moments of our deepest pain, are all worth living and feeling. They are worth it because of moments that fill us so fully we begin to understand life and its rewards. We would take on an eternity in Dante’s Inferno with the promise of having those few precious moments back. Things like a first kiss, an embrace from a parent, or the laughter of a two year old.

I am lucky; I have had many moments worth remembering forever, and enough heartache to know to cherish them. My first loss is faint, easier to bare, but still leaves me questioning, “what if”.    

                                                                                 

Starting a book...

I have played this story over and over in my head.  The characters, their story, and their souls.   Characters do have souls, you know.  Some are deeper then people I know.  Writing must be the closest thing to feeling like God, as you create a soul.  You put time, energy, love and hope, and then mold them into flawed yet lovable creatures. I am glad God is in charge and not me.  The stress of bringing souls to life and choosing their every mannerism, making sure that they are not perfect, (perfection is boring) but very loved is difficult.  God has perfected the art and given us all that spirit, I hope Efflorescence is a shred of what God has given this world, and I thank him for providing me with the gift to share it.